


Visitors Not Received with Zesty Jolliness at the Moment

by l_grace_b



Series: Wynonna Earp Xmas Thing [4]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, And it's Christmas, F/F, Gen, Wynonna Earp Xmas Thing, and light angst, mostly just adventures with them as kids, some light fluff, they're all kids in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_grace_b/pseuds/l_grace_b
Summary: Nicole tells her children a Christmas tale.---The 2020 Wynonna Earp Xmas Thing
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Series: Wynonna Earp Xmas Thing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1223969
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	Visitors Not Received with Zesty Jolliness at the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Year FOUR of my Wynonna Earp Xmas Thing. For context, it's an AU based around one of my all-time favorite Christmas stories, "Red Ranger Came Calling". 
> 
> Sit back and enjoy!

"Mama, can you tell me a story?"

"If that'll get you to sleep. Christmas morning doesn't come if you don't sleep."

Charlie was always the one more easily persuaded to go to bed. A promise of stories or extra snuggles was a sure guarantee for a punctual bedtime.

Pajamaed feet padded across the wood floor of the child's bedroom and crash-landed on the small bed. "Come on, Dylan! Mama tells the _best_ stories!"

Nicole cast a glance over her shoulder toward a taller kid, clad in striped pajamas and an old super hero t-shirt, stopped short as he was passing the bedroom.

"You want in on this story, too?"

On the brink of teenage-dom, Dylan requested fewer tuck-ins, opting for hasty good-nights to he could retreat to his bedroom and pour over comics late into the night. He was, however, never one to disappoint his sister.

"Hey, Charlie, why don't you go ask Mommy if she wants to make us some cocoa?"

"Yeeeeaaaaah!" The younger child scurried off her bed, brushing past Dylan.

Once Charlie was out of sight, Dylan slunk over to the small bed and sat on the edge , next to his mom.

Nicole brushed floppy curls off her son’s forehead. "Knew I could entice you with some cocoa. You inherited my sweet tooth.”

Dylan cracked a shy smile, smoothing his hair back down. "You haven't told us a story in a long time."

Nicole smiled, remembering when her son was younger than Charlie. Nights where the only way he’d get to sleep would be by listening to her spin tales of fantasy and monsters and a gang of cowboys and angels and heroes fighting the evils of the world. "Well, it's Christmas Eve. And you two are old enough. I think it's time you heard this one."

"Okay, I'm baaaack!" Charlie barreled back into the room, leaping onto the bed, nearly kicking her older brother in the head. "Mommy said she'll bring the cocoa up soon. She was even gonna put extra marshmallows in mine!"

"Like you need more sugar."

Charlie ignored her brother's remark and eagerly latched onto Nicole's arm. "Did you start yet? Did I miss anything?"

"I was just getting started."

"Okay, good." Charlie crawled under her covers, stretching her legs over her mom's lap. "I'm ready!"

Nicole laughed. "This is a story about a young girl named Nicole--"

Charlie gasped, sitting bolt upright. "Is it about _you_ , Mama?"

"Mama's stories _always_ have her in them," Dylan chided.

"Sometimes it's also easier to tell stories if I don't have to worry about making up names!" Nicole explained. "Now, are you just going to question the sanctity of my stories, or do you actually want to hear it?"

"I don't know what 'sanctity' means," said Charlie as she flopped back against her pillows, "But I'd just rather hear the story. Go ahead, Mama."

Nicole smiled. "This story happened, a long, long time ago…and it's about a girl who was sent away…"

* * *

Nicole had a home, but never spent any time there. During the school year, she was sent to the academy in the city. In the summer, she was sent to the prairie for summer camp.

In one of the brief windows of time with her less-than-affectionate parents, they would escort her from airport terminal to airport terminal without so much as a pat on the back and enough money to buy candy or a bag of chips at the news stand. She traveled alone, with nothing but a suitcase, a backpack, and a stack of Super Gal and the Wonder Squad comics to keep her company.

The lone remaining month of the year, she was sent off to live with her uncle. He lived a small island on the west coast of the continent, wedged between mountains and ocean, that spent more time in the rain and fog than it did in the sunshine. 

Her uncle would pick her up after the bumpy, soggy ferry ride in his rusty, old sedan, and they'd rattle through town, on streets long past repair and dirt roads nobody bothered to ever pave.

_"So, why did they send her away all the time? Was she bad?"_

_"No. She wasn't bad," Nicole sighed, patting Charlie's leg. "They just…didn't know how to take care of a kid. Made it so they got to spend as little time with her as possible."_

_"You know how to take care of kids super well, mama." She wriggled onto Nicole's lap and gave her a hug._

_"Thank you, baby," Nicole smoothed down Charlie's hair. "Truly, it wasn't bad. Her uncle just kind of let her be…"_

She knew what to expect, at least. Two dozen awkward, quiet days with minimal interaction with her uncle. That year was no different.

Except it was worse. Times were hard. Hours cut throughout the town. Businesses closing left and right.

Her uncle said he couldn't pay her that year -- not that he was paying her much anyway -- for doing odd little jobs at his hardware store. Like everything else in town, business had been bad.

Instead, she spent her days sitting on the stoop of the shop, with Calamity Jane -- the cranky, old shop cat -- curled at her feet. She watched as the streets became less and less busy, even as holidays inched closer. She noticed more places boarded up or advertising _For Sale_ signs. The movie theater with two-dollar tickets looked like it hadn't housed a movie in months. The bakery that would give her and her friends free Mexican wedding cookies -- still warm and sticky with powdered sugar -- when they knocked on the back door…looked awfully dark.

At least Shorty's was still open. That place had _everything_. You could get groceries, candy, sometimes they had books, and crafts from local artists.

The most exciting part of the year was when Shorty got in a shipment of toys from the mainland, just in time for Christmas. He always put up an extravagant display in his front window.

This year the centerpiece of the window display was a twenty-one-inch, titanium-bodied bicycle, painted bright blue, red, and yellow. Super Gal's colors.

It was a true thing of beauty.

And Nicole had her eye on it.

And it was also something that was so out of her reach--Uncle Randy didn't have the money, and _she_ sure didn't--she didn't even feel worthy enough to go into the store to look at it. 

But it gave her space to daydream about flying down the streets, over rivers, buildings -- you could _fly_ on this bike --saving the world from bullies and careless parents who didn't give a rat's hiney about their kids…

She spent her days daydreaming until the kids from the neighborhood--two boys who lived at opposite ends of the street, and a pair of sisters who lived across the street from uncle Randy -- finally got out of school for winter break. Her uncle didn't want her home alone, but at least he trusted her with four other kids her age.

It became an unspoken agreement that when everyone was finished with school, they would meet up at the cove tucked behind the end of their street. 

It was their spot.

How it was never invaded by other kids on the island, they couldn't figure out. Trunks of driftwood trees were scattered along the rocky beach, leaving plenty of places to sit beyond even the reach of the high tide. The cliffsides jutted out, providing excellent hiding spots. It was a beach full of the world's best skipping rocks. They could see the mainland and the passing ferries, watch sea lions and seagulls--and the occasional orca--flitting about beyond the mouth of the cove. 

As cold and dreary as this place was in the winter…it wasn't totally awful. If she had a favorite place…maybe this was it.

Their first meet-up of the year was a few days before Christmas. The first day was filled with updates of the major happenings at school on the mainland they all attended. How everyone seemed taller. And how Doc -- nicknamed after his aspirations to follow in the footsteps of his dentist father -- finally seemed to fit into the cowboy hat he nicked out of his grandpa's closet.

 _Had Waverly always been that…_ cute _?_

"Where's Dolls?" Nicole quickly brushed the thought away, craning her neck to look over the dune. 

"His dad got a new job, so they had to move," said Wynonna shortly. She tossed a rock out toward the mouth of the cove, flying dangerously close to a seagull before it plunked into the water. 

" _I'll_ tell you what's new," Waverly announced, diverting the subject. "Jeremy's got a cruuuuuuush!"

"I do _not_!" Jeremy cried, pulling his scarf up to hide the furious blush in his cheeks.

"And it's on this new boy who just started at our school this week," Waverly continued. "He even ditched me to be his partner in science class." 

"I…just wanted to make sure Robin felt…welcomed!" Jeremy protested. "And that he had a partner who would actually do the work!"

"Except you almost dropped the test tubes," Waverly pointed out. Jeremy let out a whimper. Nicole felt herself giggle.

However, her friend's burgeoning affections turned out to be the only happy news they all had to share. The plague of bad luck seemed to be infecting the entire island.

Everything else was…bleak. Doc's dad also lost his job, but had high hopes they could stay on the island. High hopes that seemed to span over six months…

Jeremy's mom was still sick--some rare autoimmune disorder--and she was having a harder time keeping the town's singular diner open. If things didn't look up…they might have to close down, too.

"And, surprise, surprise, daddy's still angry at work, so he still drinks," Wynonna hucked another rock across the water. "And we haven't heard from Mama in months."

_"That's so sad."_

* * *

"How can that be possible for them all just to have bad luck like that?"

Nicole sighed. "Sometimes, all of the bad things of the world just…build up. And they seep into all the corners of everyone's lives."

"What do you do when that happens, Mama?"

Nicole brushed a few strands of hair from her daughter's face.

"You just keep on hoping things get better."

* * *

"If you could ask Santa for only _one_ thing…what would it be?"

Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve. 

It felt like any other day. Devoid of the joy and anticipation she knew most kids felt. The talking was kept to a minimum. Wynonna seemed bent on climbing all of the rock faces. Doc was trying to teach Jeremy to skip rocks, but to very little avail. Nicole opted for her favorite piece of driftwood to perch on, where she had full view of the opening of the cove.

These few weeks were always her high point of the year. Getting some freedom from her uncle, getting to see her friends who _actually_ liked her.

But this year, it all seemed like they couldn't muster up enough good will to cheer up Nicole.

The gray of the afternoon seemed grayer.

These were the moments that hope and impossibility seemed their most likely.

"I didn't think you still believed in Santa. Or at all."

Nicole shrugged. "Sometimes it's easier to think of the impossible when you think about what you want most."

"I wish my dad could get a job." Doc piped up as he and Jeremy approached Nicole and Waverly. Doc had his hands shoved in his pockets. "That's the kind of thing only Santa can make happen."

"I wish my mom would get better," said Jeremy.

Wynonna hopped down from one of her perches and sat down on the other side of Nicole. She let out a long sigh. "I wish Daddy would stop drinking."

"I wish Mama would come home," said Waverly.

They all then looked at Nicole.

"Well?" Wynonna urged. "Don't ask if you're not willing to answer it yourself!"

Nicole gazed out over the water.

She could have anything. She knew that. Her parents had money. They bought themselves fancy things and trips all the time. They sent to a fancy school and had no qualms about flying her across the country every few months.

But they never let her be a kid. She was made to play every elite sport at school--not that she was any good at them--leaving her with little down time. The few times she was at home, she couldn't even sneak down to watch television. She was expected to read stuffy old classics by awful white men. Stacks of comics were hidden in a box under her bed, deemed entirely too "childish" by her mom, squirreled into the house from camp acquaintances.

Stifling herself and the life she wanted, the life she was meant for…was hard.

But here…she and uncle Randy watched comedy shows and cartoons on the weekends on the old television with the fuzzy picture. She got to ditch the itchy school uniforms for jeans and warm sweaters and sneakers. When she came to town, people hugged her when she returned every December.

But like anything she wanted, that wish relied too much on her parents actually caring for what she wanted, on them breaking beyond the icy layers their daughter built up over time.

And that would require effort.

So everything she wanted just stayed at the surface.

"I want a bike," Nicole finally answered. "The one that's been in the window at Shorty's all month. Seems reasonable enough."

Wynonna scoffed. "Well, good luck with that. Did you see how much it costs? There aren't enough kids on this island to babysit for five years to get money for that bike."

"That's why _Santa_ has to bring it to her!" Waverly huffed.

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting ferries pass and seagulls dance.

"Do you all remember that old rumor about the house at the south end of the island?" Jeremy finally broke the silence. "You ever think about if it was true?"

"No."

"Yes."

Nicole narrowed her eyes. "What rumor?"

"The one about how that old house--that nobody goes to or knows anything about--is where Santa Clause actually lives."

Nicole blinked. "What?"

Jeremy shrugged. "It's been around the school for years. One of those things that gets passed down. I heard a lot more kids talking about it, though. Talking about making trips over to the island just to see if it's true."

"That's because this year's been bad," Wynonna groaned. "Everybody's looking for a way to--" 

"But...what if it _was_ true?" 

"Jeremy, Santa didn't retire and come live in a house on an island in the--"

"But what if he did!" Jeremy cried. "Robby Svane said--"

"Robby says a lot of things," Doc mumbled. He squatted down, already looking for more skipping rocks. "Doesn't mean he's right. He just likes to get you riled up."

As her friends bickered on, an idea popped into Nicole's head.

Truly, it was a crazy, outlandish idea. Her friends might toss her into the sound because of it.

But it might work.

She needed a little adventure in her life anyway.

"Why don't we go and see for ourselves?" Nicole offered. "See if Santa does live here. And ask him for what we want."

Her friends stopped and looked at her. Wynonna's hand twitched.

"Are you _crazy_?" Wynonna exclaimed. "Tonight's Christmas Eve."

"Which means it's the perfect time," Nicole reasoned. "We sneak out, see if--

"No, I mean _you're_ crazy for even thinking that's a good--" 

"It's not a bad idea," said Waverly. "If there is, though…or was…there must be records of him down at the library," said Waverly.

"Don't encourage this!" Wynonna elbowed Waverly in the ribs. "Also, only _you_ would want to go to the library on Christmas Eve."

"But…didn't you all just say what you _really_ wanted?" Nicole interjected. "And now we might just have a chance to ask for it? To get it?"

Jeremy looked pleadingly at Wynonna. "I'd do anything if it would help my mom get better."

Wynonna crossed her arms. "Doc?" What to you think?"

Doc finally stood up, tossing a flat stone in his hand. "The way I see it, we've got two options for it not working. Be was also an option for it _to_ happen and we can all get what we want." 

Doc flung the stone across the water. It jumped twelve times before sinking into the water, one of his longest streaks yet. He turned back to his friends. "I think that's about as good of an argument as any. Let's do it."

Nicole nodded. "Okay. Tonight. We meet up in front of the movie theater. After all the grownups have gone to sleep. Then we'll see if there really is a Santa Clause. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Deal."

"Deal."

Waverly elbowed a reluctant Wynonna in the ribs. "Fine. Deal."

Nicole nodded. "Deal."

For the first time all week, she felt herself smile.

* * *

"You sure this is it?"

Bundled up in their winter coats and boots worn over their pajamas against the damp chill of the night, the five of them stood at the bottom of the longest, tallest hill on the island. Jeremy was even toting along his favorite stuffed dragon, as if he had been asleep moments before arriving.

"I'm pretty sure," said Waverly. "I double-checked the phone books and in the records down at the library. The closest I could find was someone named S. Klauss. He's older than dirt…and lives here."

She nodded at the lane before them. A dark, winding path, nestled against a hillside, led up to a towering house. A few soft lights glowed from the windows, but they could not see any movement.

"Not exactly the house you think Santa Clause lives in," 

"Don't worry," said Doc. He unzipped his jacket, revealing a toy foam dart gun sticking out of his inside pocket. "If anything happens, I got us covered."

"Great," Wynonna dead-panned. "I feel soooooo much safer."

"Can we just go?" Jeremy urged, hugging his dragon tighter. "Mom doesn't know I'm here and…I really don't want to worry her."

Doc zipped up his coat again, and turned on his heel. "Then what are we waiting for? Onward!"

Doc bounded down the path, Jeremy and Waverly following closely behind him. Wynonna and Nicole brought up the rear.

"I know why you're doing this," Wynonna teased, keeping her voice low. "It's because you want to look brave and adventurous in front of my sister since you totally have a crush on her."

"I do _not_!" Nicole shrieked, a little too loudly. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Fortunately, her outburst didn't seem to reach the others.

Wynonna stopped. Even in the dim glow of their flashlights, she could tell Wynonna had crossed her arms.

Nicole dropped her head, hiding the flaming blush that bloomed in her cheeks and neck.

"Okay…so? The rest of you didn't have to come with!"

"And leave _you_ to go all by yourself to the creepiest place on the island? I don't think so!"

" _You_ were being real mean to Waverly about it, too!" Nicole argued back. "You were just as convinced that there isn't a Santa Clause, too."

Wynonna dropped her arms to her sides. "I just…don't want her to be disappointed, you know? She's my baby sister. I want to protect her."

Nicole couldn't help but feel the same way.

"Hey! You two coming or what?" Doc's voice echoed back down the pathway.

Nicole turned her flashlight ahead of her and Wynonna, finding that their friends had disappeared farther up the hill. As she beamed it back toward Wynonna, her light caught a weathered wooden sign nailed into the hillside.

**_Visitors Not Received with Zesty Jolliness at the moment._ **

"That's…promising," Wynonna remarked.

They finally caught up with their friends at the top of the stairs, in front of a set of heavy and ornately-carved wooden doors. They panned their flashlights upwards, catching sight of a set of brass knockers. Nicole reached up and rapped them a few times.

A few moments passed, with nothing but the crashing surf below them to fill the silence.

"Well, I guess nobody's home, time to go!" Jeremy quickly spun around and stepped off the landing.

Doc grabbed the edge of Jeremy's coat, halting him mid-step. "Hold on!"

One of the doors slowly opened inward. 

"Who goes there?" A squeaky voice called from inside. A pair of beady eyes, hidden behind a pair of spectacles, peeked around the door. 

It was all they could do to not notice the long, pointy ears peeking out from the doorway as well.

Nicole threw her shoulders back. "We're…we're the Wonder Squad!"

"We're the what?" she heard Wynonna mutter behind her.

"…and I'm Super Gal! And we are the defenders of the universe."

"Now she's lost it." 

"--and we're here to see if there really is a Santa Clause," Waverly interjected, stepping in front of Nicole.

The squat figure opened the door slightly more, eyeing them all up and down (though they couldn't have been much taller).

The door creaked open more, and they were motioned to enter. The foyer was dark and cavernous, low-burning candles mounted precariously around the room on unseen surfaces. Still, they were able to get a better look at their greeter.

The figure wasn't much taller than any of them, though the ears definitely added an inch or two. They wore a tartan waistcoat, trousers, and buckled shoes. They looked like they were dressed for a business trip, not spending hours in a workshop making toys.

But if this S. Klauss had an elf…this was one of them.

The door shut behind them, sending an echoing _boom_ through the room, making all of them jump.

Nicole felt someone grab tightly onto her hand. She squeezed back.

"This way," they wheezed, hobbling up a spindly staircase.

They kept their flashlights on as they climbed. Their beams caught discarded toys, disintegrating with age or abandoned in disrepair.

The staircase led to a landing with a single door.

The elf turned to them and stepped aside.

"He's in there. Don't be long."

The only light in the room came from a roaring fire on the wall opposite the door, and a long, rectangular beam of moonlight stretching across the floor. The light caught one object in the room--a tall, wooden armchair, ornately carved with wintry animals and tableaus. In the chair sat a man who looked older than time itself, dressed not in a burlap suit, but a long nightshirt, his long, white beard trailing nearly the length of his long, spindly body.

"Hello?"

The voice filled the room, commanding, but surprisingly tired.

"W-we're the Wonder Squad, and we're here to set something straight," said Nicole, this time with far less bravado. "Rumor has it you're Santa Clause."

"Is that so?"

Doc stepped in front of Nicole, drawing one of his foam pistols. "Don't you be tryin' any funny business, old man!"

Klauss let out a bemused sigh. "Put that away, my boy. You have no use for it here. I am…very old. Four-hundred and seventy-two this month," the old man wheezed. "And very tired. Santa Clause is a myth, gone the way as all things eventually do. Washed away in the tides of time. Nobody believes anymore…"

He pushed himself out of his chair with surprising ease, but shuffled over to the fireplace. He leaned against the ornate mantle. He gazed at the figurines adorning the ledge--a collection of carved animals.

"What would make you believe, make _anyone_ believe?" the old man said despondently.

"Don't do it, boss," the elf who greeted them at the door scurried into the room, flying to the old man's aid. "You're not two hundred any more…"

" _I'd_ believe," said Nicole. "I'd believe if…you could make a reindeer fly."

Klauss let out a chortle. "Reindeer…fly…" He ran his hand over a small stag. His eyes narrowed in what looked like concentration.

The elf stepped forward again. "Boss, please--"

"Hey hey hey!" Someone behind them shouted. Nicole spun around, finding Jeremy leaping and waving his arms in the air. He was reaching for his toy dragon that was now floating farther and farther above his head. Doc, a few inches taller, tried to get it as well, but it kept rising higher toward the rafters.

"Oh…dear." Klauss had a gnarled hand over his mouth, covering a look of surprise that surely mimicked Nicole's.

Not everyone was impressed. "So you did a magic trick," Wynonna said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It doesn't mean--"

"Okay I believe," Nicole blurted. "And my friends have wishes. If you're really Santa Clause…you can get us what we want."

Klauss nodded resolutely. He shuffled back to his armchair and settled in, sitting up a little straighter than before. His beard even looked fuller.

"Now…what would you like for Christmas?"

Waverly went first. Then Doc. Then Wynonna. They all took turns sliding up to the old man's armchair, eagerly conveying their wishes, just as Nicole heard them at the beach earlier. Eventually, Nicole was the last to go.

"Your turn," she heard Doc whisper behind her.

The old man held a shaking, gnarled hand out to Nicole.

She had no plans on letting the phony know what she wanted, but was stunned to find herself walking toward him anyway. She stood by his side

He placed his hand on top of hers, feeling surprisingly warm. Surprisingly reassuring. Something she usually didn't expect from a grown-up.

"And what would you like for Christmas?"

She had it memorized. Told it to anyone she knew. 

"I want a twenty-one-inch, titanium bodied Super Gal street bike."

Klauss frowned. "A what? I apologize, my hearing is not what it used to be."

She paused. 

Something else flashed through her mind.

_I want my parents to give me up. I know they don't want me. They never did._

She shook her head and pressed on. "A twenty-one-inch, titanium-bodied Super Gal street bicycle." Nicole said every word slowly.

The old man frowned once more. Nicole took a deep breath.

"I want a street bicycle."

He looked at her quizzically. "That's what you want? You're absolutely sure?"

Nicole felt herself nodding.

A twinkle flashed across the old man's eyes. He squeezed her hand.

"I will do my best, then."

_"Lemme guess, everyone woke up Christmas morning with the things they wanted and they all lived happily ever after, blah, blah-blah, blah…"_

* * *

"Was there anything in that sentence that suggested I was finished?" Nicole teased.

"Well, no, but," Dylan stammered, "that's how all Christmas stories end, right? If she got what she wanted, then what else is there to tell?"

"Shuuuush, Dylan!" Charlie smacked a hand against Dylan's face

"Besides, we haven't even gotten to Christmas morning yet…"

* * *

Morning came faster than expected. Nicole flopped onto her bed once she snuck back into her uncle's house, barely toeing off her boots and shrugging her coat off. Suddenly, she rolled over and she could see the pinkish streaks of dawn through her window.

The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that only exists the morning after a huge snowfall, and Christmas morning (it was almost a celestial experience when the two coincided). The quiet is respected. It's holy. Nobody wants to be the first to break it.

Nicole creeped past her uncle's room, where she could hear him still softly snoring, down the stairs, across the hall, toward the living room.

The house was still mostly dark, save the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights emanating from the living room. A beacon. 

Nicole took the slowest, softest steps she'd ever taken down the hallway, savoring every moment.

She stopped at the doorway, her back pressed against the wall. Her heart was suddenly hammering against her ribcage, the way it did when she was up at the three-point line, when her teacher handed back a math exam she knew she did well on.

_Her life was about to change. Forever._

She took a breath. She rounded the corner.

Uncle Randy was not one for frills. Christmas seemed to be the only time he ever changed anything in the house. His tree was always sawed down from the back yard -- the smallest and skimpiest tree -- and hastily decorated it with paper garland and a string of lights that was older than Nicole.

She wasn't expecting much anyway. She never did. At least uncle Randy tried. Her stocking looked a little lumpy, filled with candy from Shorty's candy counter. Probably a new pair of socks.

Somehow, it looked far emptier 

Especially because the room did not contain a bicycle.

* * *

" _No…_ " Charlie's mug of hot cocoa was lifted halfway to her mouth, her jaw hanging open.

" _What?!_ That's ridiculous! What kind of Christmas story is _that_?" Dylan cried

"Did I say the story is over?" Nicole took a coy sip from her own mug.

"But…it was Christmas morning. Nicole didn't get her gift!"

"Christmas lasts an entire day. She still had time."

* * *

Before splitting off back to their houses the night before, they all agreed to meet at the cove Christmas morning to confirm if the man they talked to last night had been the real Santa Clause.

Nicole was certain she would be the first one there, but couldn't bring herself to check the rest of the houses. She just marched down the street, leaving a trail of fury and disappointment in her stead. Her feet moved on their own, taking her to her favorite driftwood log.

She couldn't tell how long she was there, save for the morning ferry run passed by the mouth of the cove at its usual time, blasting a jovial greeting on its fog horn.

She didn't look when she heard crunching rocks behind her.

She was ready for tearful cries, having to give comforting hugs to her friends, hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to see them look as miserable as she felt…

"Nicole! You won't believe what happened!"

Nicole's stomach dropped. She finally looked over her shoulder.

Wynonna and Waverly came bounding down the beach. They were panting, as if they had run the whole way.

"What hap--" Nicole barely got the question out before Waverly cut her off.

"Mama's home!" Waverly cried. Her eyes shined as a grin split her face. Nicole had never seen Waverly so happy.

"And Daddy," Wynonna continued, still catching her breath. "Daddy…says he wants to stop drinking. Even go somewhere to get help."

Nicole's jaw hung open.

Not a minute later, Doc sprinted toward them, his eyes wide.

"Let me guess. Your wish got granted."

Doc closed his mouth. "Yeah," he exhaled. "What about Jeremy?"

As he said his name, Nicole's eye caught a figure coming over the bluff.

Jeremy approached them in a slow shuffle, his face a blank stare. His eyes were puffy, as if he had just spent a good deal of time crying.

"Jeremy…what happened?"

Jeremy, shell-shocked, said nothing.

"Is it your mom? Is she okay?" Wynonna asked.

Jeremy finally blinked, as if waking up, realizing where he was and who he was with.

"We…got a call this morning," his voice was softer than normal, barely making it past the water lapping against the shore behind them. "My mom…got approved for the treatment. She can start next week."

As soon as he finished, Waverly leapt at him, throwing her arms around him.

"Jeremy, that's so amazing."

They all took turns hugging and celebrating the good fortune. Nicole hung back as long as she could. It was great that her friends--and their families--got what they wished for. But it still hurt that--

"Did you get your bike, Nicole?" It stung worse than a paper cut.

Nicole had her speech all worked out as she shuffled toward the beach. It was nearly bursting out of her at this point. However, the moment she opened her mouth, something else tumbled out instead.

"Oh…yes!" Nicole exclaimed. "Easily the best gift ever. I didn't ride it down here because it's too muddy and I want to keep it clean as long as I can.”

Her friends all nodded in understanding.

They didn't ask any further questions, but kept babbling on about other small things they got, until finally it was decided that they needed to get back home. They slowly made their way back toward the road, and Nicole slowly backed away, back toward the water.

When she was sure they were gone, Nicole plopped back down onto her favorite log and held her head in her hands.

"You didn't really get the bike, did you?" 

"No. How could you tell?"

Wynonna came to stand next to Nicole. "I can tell when my best friend is lying." 

Nicole felt her face go warm again. She'd never heard those words spoken to or about her before.

_Best friend…_

"Why'd you lie, then?"

Nicole looked down. "After you all said you got what _you_ wanted…you seemed so happy. Your whole lives have turned around. I couldn't just…rain on that. Why would I? Besides, it's just a bike." 

"And you don't deserve those good things, too?" Wynonna sat down on the log next to her. "You know, before last night…Waverly's been at it almost every day trying to get Shorty to give her the bike. So she could give it to you."

Nicole let out a small chuckle and wiped at her eyes.

Wynonna stood up and moved to stand in front of Nicole. She held out her hand. "I know you don't always think it, but you have people who want the best for you. I just hope someday you will."

Nicole grabbed Wynonna's hand. Wynonna pulled Nicole up and 

"C'mon. Mama's bent on making cookies. She's going to make a ton, and I'm sure she's looking for people she can pawn them off on."

They made their way back to their street just as they saw Waverly, Jeremy, and Doc begin to peel off to their individual homes. Waverly happened to turn and saw them. She bounded toward them.

"There you two are!" Waverly took one look at Nicole, and her face immediately fell. "What's happening?"

"Nicole didn't get her bike."

"What?!" Waverly never looked so mad. There could've been steam coming out of her ears. "Doc! Jeremy! Get over here!"

The boys came scrambling back down the road. Waverly explained the predicament, eliciting just as much incredulity out of Jeremy and Doc.

Waverly stomped her foot in a huff. "We've gotta go back up there right now and tell him _right_ to his face that he's a slimy, lying --"

"Waverly, no!" Nicole caught Waverly's hand. "Please. You don't have to."

"But, but--" Waverly stammered, wrenching her hand from Nicole. "You didn't get your bike! We gotta go back and ask for it! That Santa is a _fake_ and a phony and he deserves to hear it."

Doc reached into his coat, drawing his foam pistol. "I reckon a talking-to with my friend here will set him straight."

Jeremy put his hand on Nicole's shoulder. "You wait here. We'll be back. And not until we bring a bike back!"

"Stop it!" Nicole's shrill voice echoed around them. She shrugged off Jeremy's hand. "All of you. It…it didn't work. Just…leave it."

Doc stepped forward. “Nicole…that man, he…he made something happen. I guarantee it. My daddy checked the wanted ads yesterday, and there was nothing. And now he got a job offer to partner in a dentist office on the mainland. I swear it’s real, or my name isn’t John Henry Holliday,” he insisted. It was the most earnest Nicole had ever heard him.

“Then where’s my bike?” Nicole wailed, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. “All I wanted was a stupid bike. _Anyone_ can do that. And he didn’t."

Nicole stepped away from her friends, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. "I’m happy for you all. I really am. But Santa's not real. The universe just had some good luck to spare you. And it ran out before it could get to me. As usual."

Waverly wrapped her arms around Nicole. “I’m so sorry. You're a good person. You deserve a good Christmas just like the rest of us."

Nicole tightened her grip around Waverly. 

"Nicole Haught!"

They jumped apart at the sound of uncle Randy's voice echoing down the street.

"Uh oh."

“That…doesn’t sound good,” said Wynonna.

They all hurried down the muddy road to uncle Randy's house, but remained at the end of laneway, watching as Nicole slunk toward the house.

As soon as Randy caught sight of her, he leapt off the porch toward Nicole.

Nicole squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the roaring and reprimanding and never being let out of the house for the rest of her days.

Instead, strong arms lifted her up, holding her in a tight hug.

"I was worried sick about you, kid. I went and checked on you and you weren't there and I -- "

Nicole was released from the hug, her mouth hanging open.

Uncle Randy was looking her over in…concern? Worry?

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Nicole stammered. "Just…wanted to meet up with my friends. Compare what we got for Christmas. I'm sorry I worried you."

Randy's shoulders relaxed. He scrubbed his face, playing off his worry. "Oh. Well. I suppose that's not too bad." He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair.

The two of them stood in silence, unsure of how to proceed after the fleeting moment of familiar bliss.

"I also was looking for you because…your parents called."

Nicole took a step backwards. "My… _parents_?"

Randy nodded in just as much disbelief as Nicole. "Yeah. And you know your folks aren't exactly the friendliest/most conversational with those who don't exactly…run in their social circles. And they're not ones to check on you, either, but…" He let out a sigh and shook his head.

"They…" Randy pursed his lips as he tried to formulate words. "…want to give you up."

Nicole's jaw dropped.

Randy continued, shaking his head. "They said it was a _financial advantage_ to emancipate you and have you come live with me and I told them they could shove their financial advantage right up their --"

"Uncle Randy!" Nicole interjected. "I _want_ to stay here."

Randy's face fell, everything softening. "You…do?"

Nicole shrugged. "Yeah. I mean…I guess I'm the least miserable when I'm here for Christmas every year. I…kinda like it here, actually. I have friends here.” Nicole gestured back to the street, where her friends were standing watch, waiting to jump into action if needed. She smiled at them, giving them a little thumbs up.

"Okay. If that's what you really want. But I-I gotta tell you I don't know nothin' about fully _raising_ a kid. We gotta get your stuff from your parents' house, we gotta get you into school here -- "

"Uncle Randy! It's okay. I think you'll do an okay job." Nicole wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face in his heavy denim jacket. She felt him stroke her hair.

"You've always got a home here with me, kid."

Home.

Friends.

 _Best_ friends.

“What in the world…" Nicole pulled away, finding uncle Randy squinting at...something. Something in the back yard, above the roofline.

Nicole couldn't help but do the same. When her eyes finally caught it, her jaw dropped. She gasped. And then laughed. And then smiled a smile bigger than anyone on that street had ever seen.

"Waverly! Wynonna! Doc, Jeremy! You gotta see this!"

Her friends scrambled down the driveway toward the house, frantically looking in the direction Nicole was pointing.

"Is that a--"

"Sure is."

"Well I'll be…" Doc mused.

The four of them wandered over to the tall fir tree, to get a closer look at the shiny, new bicycle, painted red, blue, and yellow, that was jutting out of the trunk, some thirty feet in the air.

The old man had done it after all.

_Kind of._

Klauss didn’t give Nicole a _street_ bike…but he sure gave her a _treed_ bike.

"How did it even _get_ up there?" Randy mused, scratching his head. "Going to be a devil of a time to saw a bike down from a --"

"No. Leave it," Nicole objected, grabbing her uncle's hand. She wrapped her arms around his middle once more. "I want to remember this Christmas. It's the Christmas I came home."

* * *

"And the bike stayed in that tree for the rest of their days, growing along with them. Even getting a bit rusty. But they kept it up there, as a reminder that intentions and actions always mean more than words…even if they are a little misguided. And to never give up on people if they don't give up on you."

Charlie, curled into Nicole's lap, yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "That was a good story, mama. What happened to them all?"

"Well, it's a story about _me_ , right?

"Well, to most, it would seem unremarkable," another voice joined in. Waverly crossed the room to where her wife and children were all curled up. "She lived with her uncle Randy. She ended up going to school with all of her friends--her _real_ friends --and they grew up together.

"And that little sister Nicole denied having a crush on?" Waverly pulled the blankets around Charlie. She tapped the end of Charlie's nose playfully, earning a giggle from her daughter. "They ended up getting married and had two of the most incredible kids."

Charlie's eyes grew wide. Dylan face-palmed.

"Where their names Charlie and Dylan?"

"They might've been," Nicole laughed. "Now, I believe that it's time for _some_ kids, whatever their names are, to go to sleep."

"Can Dylan have a sleepover with me tonight?" Charlie whined.

"Your brother's tolerated you enough tonight, I think," Nicole squeezed Dylan's knee, before sliding off the bed. "Bed time. Both of you."

Dylan slid off the bed, and gave both of his moms a hug before retreating down the hall.

"Dylan, you go ahead. I'll meet you there in a second." She placed a hand on Waverly's shoulder. "You got this one? I'm going to go check on Dylan."

“Of course,” Waverly smiled. Nicole kissed the top of her wife's head before following her son.

Dylan was already in bed, and he was leafing through a comic book.

Nicole sat on the edge of his bed. "You're a good big brother, you know that? Thanks for humoring your sister tonight."

Dylan closed the comic and tossed it onto his bedside table before settling further down under the covers. "You told me that story before. A long time ago."

"I know. I thought it was time you heard it again."

"It's a good story, but I never realized how cheesy the ending was."

"And stories are just automatically less good because they have nice endings?" Nicole teased her son.

Dylan shrugged. "It was kind of nice how things just…magically worked out at the end of the story. But it's just a story, right? That's all just made up. I _know_ Santa and all of that magic stuff isn't true."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Nicole reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a photograph, creased and faded with time, but discernable nonetheless, and handed it to Dylan. Nicole watched as her son's eyes widened. "Sometimes the best stories…"

The picture was of a younger Nicole, along with Waverly, his auntie Wynonna, uncles Doc and Jeremy, all smiles, as if they had just been laughing, stood at the bottom of a tree. Above them, a bike was fully wedged into the trunk.

"…are one-hundred percent true."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends.
> 
> Three years ago, I started a thing, inspired by one of my favorite things. I wanted to pay tribute to the Christmas serials printed in my local newspaper every year.
> 
> I didn't think this was going to happen this year. Truly.
> 
> This year's been a nightmare and with all of my work moving to remote for the foreseeable future…spending more time on a computer, staring at a word document wasn't my idea of a good time. And not wanting to write breaks my heart.
> 
> But, tradition is tradition. And in the midst of chaos, traditions can be helpful. Necessary, even*.
> 
> I hope you like it. As always, comments and kudos get you points for the Good Place.
> 
> *except when it comes to family/friend gatherings PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE BABY JEEBUS STAY HOME
> 
> Stay home. Wear a mask. Be safe. Be well <3
> 
> Personal inquiries --> @TeachEarp_ on the tweeters.


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